Father Time
by B.A. Tyler
Summary: Post-war Hawkeye-Daniel ficlet. Somewhere along the way — and Hawkeye couldn't even truly identify when — there had been a role reversal.


**Father Time**

Hawkeye stepped into the living room and quietly latched the front door behind him. He'd been about to announce his arrival, but caught sight of his old man asleep in the recliner and snapped his mouth shut. No point in waking him. The television was on, some western movie that Hawkeye couldn't identify, and the sound was annoyingly loud. He walked to the set and turned the volume down a little but left it on. It would be nice to have the background noise while he was here.

He went into his father's study down the hall and took a seat at the writing desk, his hands knowingly locating the checkbook in one of the drawers. The bills to be paid were on top of the desk in a neat pile. It had become a monthly ritual now, and it embarrassed the hell out of Daniel… having to give up his financial matters to his son. But it was a necessity, ever since Daniel had so terribly miscalculated the funds in his checking account a few months back, resulting in bounced checks, a number of angry creditors, and confusion all around.

Hawkeye had sat him down then, and had gently but firmly offered to pay the man's bills from that point forward, pretty much leaving no room for argument. At first Daniel had hovered over his son during the check-writing process, providing a running commentary, but now he kept out of Hawkeye's way… and often simply slept through the whole thing, like today.

The first check was for the utilities, the second for the telephone. Both seemed high, and Hawkeye would have to talk to Dad about that, something he dreaded. Maybe he'd just let it slide this month, see if there was any improvement next. The last thing he wanted was to seem controlling and unreasonable.

But the sad truth was, the tables had been turned. Somewhere along the way—and Hawkeye couldn't even truly identify _when_—there had been a role reversal: he had become more like the parent and Daniel more like the kid. "Don't forget to take your pills, Dad." "Are you eating enough fruit, Dad?" "The house is too hot, Dad… you need to turn down the thermostat."

He sighed as he sealed the envelope for the phone bill. There was a reason why he'd never had kids… it was too much responsibility. He loved his father, unconditionally, totally… but it was overwhelming to have to take care of him to this degree. To be available all day every day, just in case he was needed. To be willing to handle every problem, real or imagined, that arose. It was exhausting, and that was on top of single-handedly managing the old man's former Crabapple Cove practice. There just weren't enough hours in the day.

Hawkeye sat back and cocked his head, listening. Out in the living room, there was apparently a gunfight taking center stage in the movie and it seemed loud, but he didn't hear any stirring from his pop.

Hawkeye stared at the heating-oil bill in his hand, but his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. His mind was on the unpleasant but unavoidable fact that he was going to have to talk to his father about a nursing home… and soon. His dad was guaranteed to fly off the handle at that suggestion. It would probably get ugly… Daniel loved his independence and often said that he wanted to stay in this house for the rest of his life. "Lived here since your mother and I got married," he would tell Hawkeye. "Wanna die here. And that's that."

Except that Hawkeye couldn't afford live-in help for the man, and it was apparent he couldn't keep living on his own for much longer. Too many health issues, too much forgetfulness, too much house and property to take care of. Hawkeye had been putting off the inevitable for too long; he was going to have to buck up and get it done.

He shook his head, writing out the check for the heating oil, thinking, _Not today, though. Not going to wake him up to talk to him about that… no way. _

He almost smiled at himself. There was always some excuse…

He licked a few stamps, put the checkbook away, and gathered the stack of paid bills. Snapping off the light, he left the study and stepped quietly into the living room, mindful of his sleeping father. Now Daniel was snoring, even as the western continued to blare on the TV. Hawkeye took a blanket from the couch and gently placed it over his pop, then bent over and kissed him on the cheek. For a moment, he just stared at the old man, noting the wrinkles, the liver spots, the white hair.

Bills in hand, he headed to the door and took a last scan of the room, making sure nothing was amiss. "Love you, Dad," he whispered. "See you tomorrow."

As he left the house and locked the front door behind him, his heart was heavy, his mood somber. It wasn't fair. For all his life, Daniel Pierce had been the smartest, wisest, most capable man Hawkeye knew.

That just wasn't the case anymore. Father Time was seeing to that.


End file.
